


Deliverance

by wetkitty420



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Butch!Morse, F/F, Lesbian, Urination, Watersports, passing butch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420
Summary: “What if you closed your eyes?”
Relationships: Monica Hicks/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> This is pussy smut featuring urination in a sexual context (I'm saying that bluntly just so no one walks in unaware) I have been musing on a universe where Morse is a passing butch lesbian. I used he/him pronouns since that is how he'd be referred to by those who know him, and for body parts I used any language that felt right in the moment. This is my first fic, and I would deeply appreciate any feedback, concrit is more than welcome!

“What if you closed your eyes?”

Morse turned his head to the side and lifted his arm to bury his face in the crook of his elbow. 

With his vision closed off, Monica felt free to look. It was rare to have Morse like this. Not even his vest on. The freckles on his shoulders melted away at his breasts, as untouched by the sun as by her. She knew better, some things were too much. 

He was laying on his back, his legs butterflied open. Monica sat between his knees and looked down at her prize. 

A soft oval, the outer lips full and pillowy from their previous kissing and loving. His proud little sweet-pea of a cock sated, but still blushing. The delicate folds of his inner lips were very pink and, around his entrance, they glistened. 

The blue of the towel underneath his backside set off his auburn hair. 

Monica put one hand reassuringly on his inner thigh.

“Alright, let’s have it.”

Morse inhaled, exhaled, and pushed. Monica could see his cunt flex, the wet folds kissed apart to fully reveal his entrance. He still had a crescent-moon of hymen covering the lower half, and when he pushed hard she could see the pin-prick opening of his urethra.

She couldn’t help herself, she reached out and brushed his cock with her thumb, wiggling it just above the precious exposed head, brushing the very edge of its hood.

Morse gasped and clenched. As he let the breath out, they both laughed.

“I almost had it.” He sounded a little delirious

“I know” she said “sorry”

“You’re not”

“No.”

They laughed. 

He inhaled, exhaled, again, and this time when he pushed he muttered “oh god oh god” into his elbow. Monica wasn’t startled when a little warm water burbled out from between his folds. 

A dark spot formed at the place where the cleft of his bottom met the towel. Morse gathered himself. Breathed. And when he pushed again, a stream arced out of him. 

It splattered and hissed softly onto the towel, puddling between Monica’s knees. She watched. Reverent. For a few moments she gently stroked his thigh, just letting him piss.

When she looked up at his face, his eyes were unfocused and blinking slowly. Rapturously. She wondered at how this could be so much for him, when holding a bed pan was, for her, as impersonal and about as pleasant as scrubbing a toilet. 

“Look” she said, risking. Morse could not always look at himself. “Look at me.”

When his eyes met hers she moved her hand into the stream, letting it splash across her elegant fingers. He inhaled hard, his chest rising.

Then she slid her wet fingers through the soft patch of auburn hair, placing her palm over the stream so it splashed back, warm all over his aching cunt. 

Morse made a guttural sound and his thighs quickly clamped around Monica’s before he could school them, trembling, back into position. 

Surprised at herself, Monica felt heat pooling in her own core. The tender heat tickling her palm seemed to connect electrically to the other centers of her body.

When the flow stopped, she took her hand away and looked again, her eyes now hungry. The pretty cunt winked, pushed out another small arc, winked, spurted, winked, and then Morse let out a long breath. 

He stared dazed at the ceiling, looking like his ribs might simply collapse, looking like that would be fine. 

“Do you need..?

“Yes. Please.”

She pressed in at the familiar angle to avoid hurting his hymen. He didn’t even wince.


End file.
